


modern icarus

by ViScribbler



Series: sweet prince [1]
Category: Hamlet - Shakespeare
Genre: First Kiss, I wrote this instead of studying, M/M, Stargazing, gratuitous greek mythology references, hnnnggg, wittenberg shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-14 20:28:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17515373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViScribbler/pseuds/ViScribbler
Summary: because you were the first one to show me the starsHamlet finds something beautiful, and wants to let Horatio know.





	modern icarus

Horatio doesn’t remember falling asleep, but he must’ve at some point, because he’s jerking awake to the sound of knocking on his door. He pushes his textbook off his lap and heads to the door, still half asleep. He opens the door to see Hamlet, holding a candle on a holder, cheeks flushed slightly in a way that made Horatio wonder if he’d been drinking.

“I-” he starts to say, but he’s cut off.

“-Told me not to bother you, yeah,” Hamlet finishes. “But I was just- I happened to be passing by when I noticed your lights were still on and figured you could use a break.”

Horatio stifles a yawn.

“Truth be told, my lord, I’d fallen asleep,” he laughs lightly, rubbing his dry eyes. “I think it’s my body telling me that I’ve done enough studying.”

“Good,” Hamlet says, eyes shining. “Come with me.”

Confused but indulgent, Horatio grabs his coat from off his chair and throws it on as he follows after Hamlet. They head down the hall, then up the stairs until they reach the end, the top floor. But instead of going through the door that leads to Hamlet’s floor, Hamlet instead goes through the rather unremarkable door on the other side of the landing, the one Horatio assumed was storage. It was not storage. It was more stairs.

“This whole thing reeks of your rebellious royal syndrome, my lord,” Horatio says.

Hamlet grins.

“It’s a syndrome, is it?” he asks playfully. “Is it fatal?”

“Depends on the severity of the case,” Horatio answers breezily. “In such an extreme case as yours? It very well may be.”

“Ah, well,” Hamlet says. “If my days are numbered, I’d like to show you this before I meet my end.”

They climb up the stairs, which are much narrower than the previous ones, until they reach a door. Hamlet glances back at Horatio, grinning, before opening the door and stepping out. Horatio follows. They’re on the roof, as he’d suspected.

“Are we supposed to be up here?” Horatio asks.

“If not, they should’ve locked the door,” Hamlet shrugs. “Look around you, Horatio.”

He does. The sky is beautiful tonight, completely clear. They’re surrounded by stars, millions and millions of stars. The view from the roof is almost as good as it was from the fields of his family’s farm. Then, he notices the shadow passing over the full moon.

“It’s a lunar eclipse,” he breathes.

“Soon, the moon will be completely covered,” Hamlet says, sitting down. “Come on. Sit with me. Watch it.”

Horatio sits beside him, and Hamlet places the candle on the ground in front of them. It’s a warm night for March. It seems spring has made her arrival. They sit in silence for awhile, watching the sky, watching the light of the moon be slowly eaten away. After some time, Horatio glances over at Hamlet, and finds him to be looking at him.

“What’re you watching me for?” Horatio laughs. “I haven’t got phenomena happening on my face.”

“Oh, but you do, my dear Horatio,” Hamlet says. “Your eyes are so wide and dark- they reflect the moon and stars as well as a mirror. It’s as if you’ve got two little night skies of your own.”

“Yeah?” Horatio says softly, not quite knowing how to answer.

“It’s quite picturesque. If I ever take up painting, I’d paint it as my masterpiece,” Hamlet declares.

Horatio smiles. Something feels warm in his chest. The candle in front of them is nearly worn out.

“What would you title the work?” he asks, playing along.

Hamlet tilts his head to the side, thinking.

“Hmmm,” he hums. “I think-  _ Modern Icarus. _ ”

“Interesting, my lord,” Horatio says. “If I’m not mistaken, Icarus flew too close to the  _ sun _ , not the moon.”

“That’s what makes it modern, you see,” Hamlet explains with mock seriousness. “It’s a commentary on the concept of, ah, Hellenistic hubris-”

Horatio snorts.

“This is not a laughing matter, young Horatio,” Hamlet says, eyes alight with humor. “Very serious academia, you see.”

“Of course, my lord,” Horatio agrees. “My apologizes. So how, exactly, am I Icarus? Do I fly too close to the moon, in this version?”

“Oh, you aren’t Icarus,” Hamlet explains. “I am.”

The moon is completely covered, now, leaving a hole in the sky where it was moments earlier. Yet, Horatio can’t bring himself to focus on the sky.

“And the moon is merely an imposter- no more the sun than wax wings are wings,” Hamlet continues. “The sun, in this version, is your eyes, and their mini universes.”

“I wish I could say I understood, my lord,” Horatio laughs. “Have you been drinking?”

“I have not,” Hamlet says, and Horatio knows he’s telling the truth because they’re close enough now that he would be able to smell it on his breath. “I’m afraid I have gone quite mad with something else, though.”

“My lord?” Horatio questions.

In the lighting, it’s hard to tell, but it seems Hamlet’s gone pinker than he was before.

“My words fail me, Horatio,” he chuckles, combing his hair back with his fingers. “I’d rehearsed and all, but- I’ve forgotten my damn lines.”

“I don’t understand,” Horatio breathes.

“Neither do I. I don’t understand any of this,” Hamlet admits. “Maybe it’s better if I just show you.”

And then he’s kissing him. It’s a light kiss, their lips touching softly. His eyes are shut tight, almost like he’s flinching. Horatio knows this because his eyes are wide open, his whole body frozen in shock. It lasts for only a couple seconds, during which a million thoughts fly through Horatio’s head, none of him comprehensible. Hamlet pulls away and looks anywhere but Horatio’s eyes, rubbing the back of his neck with a shaky hand.

“I’m sorry,” he says, voice thin. “I shouldn’t have- I’ll-”

He stands, and panic stabs at Horatio’s heart.

“My lord,” he gasps, scrambling to his feet.

They face each other, and Horatio sees fear in Hamlet’s eyes. He’s scared, too- chills race down his spine that say  _ run, run and never look back.  _ But some sort of fire has spread across his entire chest, entwined in his ribs and grabbing at his heart. Some sort of joy. Some sort of relief. He takes Hamlet’s hand hesitantly, and Hamlet holds it tightly. He takes his other hand, too. Up here, bathed in moonlight, Hamlet looks like how Horatio imagines Achilles would look like, half-holy and beautiful.

“Forget that happened,” Horatio says softly. “Let’s try again. If that’s okay.”

Hamlet smiles at him with gratitude and affection. And then they’re kissing, both of them. It’s still tender, and hesitant, but determined. The warmth erupts all over Horatio’s body, and he smiles against Hamlet’s lips. Hamlet pulls him closer and they keep kissing, Horatio clumsily and Hamlet gracefully. When they pull apart, they’re both grinning.

“You are like no one I’ve ever met, dear Horatio,” Hamlet declares, shifting his grip on his hands. “And my life is infinitely better with you in it. And that used to terrify me, but it doesn’t anymore.”

Heat rises to Horatio’s cheeks.

“My prince,” he says, at a loss for words.

“I love you, Horatio,” Hamlet says, and he says it so calmly, in the same tone he does when making a point in class- confidently, as if nothing had ever been more true.

“I love you too, my sweet prince,” Horatio returns, and he wills the truth of it to ring through the night air like a bell.

“One of these days, I’ll get you to call me Hamlet,” Hamlet vows.

“You may try, my lord,” Horatio laughs.

“I liked that one, though,” Hamlet says. “‘My sweet prince’.”

They stay on the roof, and kiss some more, and watch as the light returns to the moon, bit by bit.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in about an hour in a procrastination-fueled frenzy after months of writer's block, and I figured I might as well share it. I've absolutely been in LOVE with these two ever since my middle school English curriculum unwittingly sparked my Shakespeare obsession, and I'd honestly love to do a full work with them, but knowing how my dumbass brain works, it's likely that'll never happen.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed!


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